


A Heart Worth Breaking

by Teawithmagician



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Het, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teawithmagician/pseuds/Teawithmagician
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was frightened, angry, I have my own issues and didn’t want more: I was ill, suffering with a violent borderline personality disorder, and the happening only got the things worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heart Worth Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> Suddenly! an original character.  
> A songfic for Avril Lavigne’s Nickleback cover, “This Is How You Remind me”

Never made it as a wise man  
I couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealing  
Tired of living like a blind man  
I’m sick of sight without a sense of feeling

It’s not like you to say sorry  
I was waiting on a different story  
This time I’m mistaken  
For handing you a heart worth breaking  
And I’ve been wrong, I’ve been down,  
Been to the bottom of every bottle  
These five words in my head  
Scream “are we having fun yet?”

I was just a foul beginner, a girl who talked to the spirits and didn’t know that. My left eye went blind, but as it died it began to see the things human eyes were not supposed to. I was frightened, angry, I have my own issues and didn’t want more: I was ill, suffering from a violent borderline personality disorder, and the happening only got the things worse.

Later I understood that it was a part of my gift, but then it began, I was terribly lost and despaired. I heard the voices in my head and was never sure of who am I or am I going to go mad or die. I never thought of that I could become one day, I just wanted to live my life, be healthy and be happy, but it seemed impossible for me and it made me act quickly.

Firstly I thought of a suicide and came to a railway station. Ann Karenina threw herself under the rolling wheels because her broken heart made her so: I wanted to do it because of my broken mind. But instead of killing myself I suddenly bought a ticket to nowhere and went West. I hoped that the life itself would kill me, I honestly searched for trouble and would have ended raped and killed in a grove near bicker’s bar, but then John found me.

He was a handsome man, though in the age of my father, and looked dangerous enough to draw my attention. I drank with him and offered him to make out with me at his place. I saw scars on his hands and noticed his big black car at the parking. With the way he looked, talked and walked it gave me hope for salvation. I hoped he would be my saviour, and he would, but not in a way I wanted him to.I smiled to him encouragingly, and he looked into my eye and said: “No, I won’t. You are just a kid, but a skillful one. You will make a job for me, and I will tell you what you want to know about yourself - who are you really and what all those voices mean.”

I suddenly become speechless: I knew what he meant and couldn’t believe in what I heard. The demons were still here, with me, and he knew a secret with which I could fight them and maybe even make them silent! I threw myself at him, shouting that I wouldn’t do anything before he told me the truth, but he was adamant.

“No. Work first.”

I cried, I begged, I cursed him. I ran out of the bar right in the dank and chilly October night not going to come back ever again, but when, in ten minutes or so, I was, he was there waiting for me. I took a deep drag from a cigarette still smoking in an ashtray on a counter before my stool and said I would do the job.

“But if you lied to me, I’d know,” I warned him not knowing what I would do when and how to threaten him, the man with the look of a tiger.

“Of course, you would,” the calm answer was.

He took me to the motel so I could go to the shower, he gave me clean clothes and beer and an additional motel blanket that smelled with chemical lavender. He never touched me with a finger, didn’t even look at me while I was preparing to sleep, and I - I didn’t realise how tired I was before me head hit the pillow. I slept a night and a day, and in the second night, we went hunting.

It was a good hunt. I saw that he couldn’t see, and he dealt with the things I was afraid of for all my life. He told me who I am, he showed me that my deepest, darkest fears were real, and also he showed me that they were not invincible - if he was able to kill them, so was I.

But he didn’t just speak: he took me to a woman who had the same gift I had, a preacher who had the knowing of the books, and a man who hunted the Darkness just like him. They helped me to write to my parents, lie of the new friends and college; I even got cured of my gonorrhea. I felt… clear and clean. I knew what all was waiting for me was hunt and struggle, but I was ready. So I became a Seer, and they told me that I become a good one.

My eye that made a freak of me was of a good use. When I wasn’t able to concentrate, I had my eye. Though using it caused a terrible headache, I always had an opportunity when the others hadn’t, saw more than the others saw. Maybe because of it John came to me again and asked me to do a job for him once again. He was on a hunt for a dark beast that killed his wife, and I eagerly agreed to help him. He helped me, he gave me a hand, now it was the time for me to show what I am worth of.

I could get myself killed that hunt, so reckless I was. John was angry with me, he told me how stupid I was, and I outburst with tears. He wasn’t supposed to talk to me like that, he wasn’t supposed to show disappointment, wasn’t he? I wanted to hurt him in response and told him that even if he died in a gutter I wouldn’t be there to drag him out that shameful grave. I left him and came back alone, for that moment I hated him the most. But when I got a vision he was injured and needed help, I told the others and they came and save him.

I tried to convince myself that John’s words were rubbish and he was in danger not because of me, but because of the life he chose, but just I couldn’t as he was lying in the bed white as snow of blood loss, and in my heart I knew it was because I left him. The danger was of a kind that only a Seer could have noticed, and I left him just because I got offended by the truth. It wounded my pride, but also sounded like a new goal to my insatiable self-esteem.

Step by step I explored the art of not being suicidal; step by step he recovered. I never was a nurse for him, never spend nights at his bed. I thought it strange as I wasn’t showing too much care at that time, but I did care, and I wanted him alive. But when he felt better, he was back to his hunt. He still came to me when needed help, not too often, but often enough: good or bad, I was the Seer, and he needed me as bad as I needed him to hunt down the what I had seen creeping in the darkness.

Was he angry with me? We never talked about it. But I tried to be of as much help as I could, and I think he valued it - in his way, as I tried in mine. He wasn’t very talkative, and I wasn’t too much social, so less talking more working was my kind showing fear of loss, and maybe his - of devotion?

So we worked together, and as years passed I became more mature, more confident and more lonely. As I started to feel a taste of life, I longed for something I didn’t really understand, and he was a part of it. He felt it too, this time I knew it for sure, that’s why he came to me sometimes just to make a stop in my cottage for a day or two when he was too exhausted to carry on. It was something we shared, the looks with no smiles, no smiles at all. The burden was unbearable, and he had the burden of his own: two sons who took his path and a life that seemed more like a death.

This time, I was alive and he was dead. He came in the morning and told me that he came for an advice of a Seer, something that he couldn’t do by himself, but he stayed longer than necessary, and the silence between us grew. I wanted to touch him to show how warm my hand was, but I was afraid that he would be cold like a dead man’s. I wasn’t even sure that he was coming for me because of me and not my vision.

Could I just imagine all that bound? I never talked to him about what I felt, neither did he. Maybe he just didn’t feel anything at all; nothing personal, just a job to do and a helping hand of a person once helped, a debtor paying his debts and a creditor accepting. I was lost in clues and suggestions and decided to give up and concentrate on work, but I failed.

There was no vision that time, I was so tense that even my eye didn’t help, and he told me he couldn’t wait any longer. Before leaving, he told me to take care. He never said this to me before, and I was so surprised that answered before thinking, “I will. And will you?”

“You are a smart girl. You understand,” he said.

He looked into my eyes and in his eyes I saw myself like he saw me for all those years. What did he see in mine? When I saw what I saw I felt a dagger in my heart and honey on my lips. So I took his hand and kiss it, and then I said quietly, “No, I am not.”

“Don’t,” he commanded.

“No,” I pressed his hand to my cheek. I was sure I would give him my love tearlessly and joyful, but I couldn’t. I felt like a dog watching her human going out the door every day and every day believing that this is the end and he would never come back.

“Don’t go,” said I persistently. He didn’t beg, neither did I - I told him so, but I knew he wouldn’t listen to me. He was a strong, determined man, and he wouldn’t be weak for me no matter what he felt or thought. It was a matter of time when he would push me away and go, but he just didn’t, though I still held his hand waiting for my heart to break.

“None of us would be happier if I stay,” he answered after a while, his voice sounded as heavy as my heartbeat.

“I would,” protested I and raised my head. He doubled in my eyes full of tears, I knew I would cry like banshee if he went, but he kissed me abruptly, fiercely, and I grabbed the collar of his jacket, moaning, “don’t go or you will have me dead, I swear, I swear, John Winchester, you will - don’t go…”

***

If you like this, you may also like my original work: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5239496/chapters/12085874  
I'm sorry but that's a living ;)


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